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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27976728">Five times Tim didn't know he had a crush, and one time he did</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Close_to_the_Sun/pseuds/Close_to_the_Sun'>Close_to_the_Sun</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Outsiders - All Media Types, The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5 and 1, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Could Be Canon, Gay Panic, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, Self-Harm, Suicidal Ideation, Tim Shepard Centric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:34:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,422</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27976728</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Close_to_the_Sun/pseuds/Close_to_the_Sun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what the title says, a 5 and 1 for TimxDally because it's a criminally underrated ship.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tim Shepard/Dallas Winston</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Five times Tim didn't know he had a crush, and one time he did</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1<br/>
I didn’t get it. Not when Dallas Winston first showed up in Tulsa. It’s a pretty big occurrence when a greaser shows up. Most anyone who moved out here’s just lookin’ for some peace an’ quiet, else they’re a soc. But Dally wasn’t anything like we’d seen before. He was thirteen goin’ on dead already and all tough and hard as if he were violence’s child. Maybe he really was. He got here at noon and by three pm had stolen a heater off some poor guy an’ made a name for himself. I heard later that he started askin’ around for me immediately. “The person who’s in charge of the streets ‘round here” or somethin’ like that. I guess I should feel complimented, but it’s probably ‘cause Mitch Wuhrer (he was head of the Tigers) was in the cooler at the time.</p><p>When he came and found me, I was in the lot. Darry and I were still friends, or so I thought at the time. He walked right up and punched me in the face without an ounce of regret or forethought or fear. I’d never seen him before, hadn’t even heard he was coming. He’s got ice cold eyes and wild  blond hair and I wasn’t sure at first that he was human. I was still reeling from the punch when he said, “So you think you’re the tough guy around here, huh?”</p><p>He had a heavy Brooklyn accent and he hadn’t hit puberty yet so he sounded like he was on helium. I laughed at him and stopped being quite as worried he was gonna kill me. “Yeah, what are you gonna do, hit me again?”</p><p>I pulled my switch outta my pocket. It was the tuff one my cousin had gotten me for my birthday, and I thought I was the <i>shit</i> for carrying it around. Dally didn’t seem too scared, or bothered by it at all, really. “Nah. Not unless you make me.”</p><p>He stepped in close and grabbed my collar and almost seemed bigger than me even though I had a good four inches on him. “But if you make me, I’ll grind you into the ground. You an’ your reputation both.”</p><p>I should have known, right then and there, why his words made my face heat up and my heart rate rise. But I didn't. I was annoyed, ‘cause I thought I was scared of him. I was willing to fight. I certainly wasn’t gonna let this new kid show me up. So I told him, “I’d like to see you try.” </p><p>I’ve always been good at hiding what I’m feelin’. I don’t think he had any idea I was more than affronted. He gave me a look that could cut diamond and I thought he was gonna try and beat me up right there. Then he shrugged, stepped back, and walked away. </p><p>“You shouldn’t wave your blade ‘round like that. Might get stolen.”</p><p>It was gone the next week, an’ he never returned it. </p><p>2<br/>
I didn’t get it. Not when I was fifteen and some of my ma’s friends let me drink hard liquor for the first time, and then told me not to die an’ left me by the tracks in an area I knew pretty well. I was wandering around and just… looking, ‘cause the whole world looks good when you’re drunk as shit. ‘Least, I thought it did. Anyway, Dally came over to meet up with me, tellin’ me that he was bored and wanted to break laws. It was a fair enough request. I wasn’t all there, of course, but I woulda gone with him even if I were sober.</p><p>“Where you wanna go?” I asked. </p><p>“I don’t give a shit, anywhere I ain’t supposta be.” </p><p>“I got an idea.” </p><p>“What’s that?” he raised an eyebrow. He’d worked to lose his accent, he didn't think no one noticed, but I did. I always noticed things more ‘bout him than ‘bout anything else.</p><p>Even then, I didn’t quite want him to get himself into too much trouble. We all fucked around and took packs of cigarettes and shit, but Dal always seemed like he might try to commit arson or somethin’, and that was one hell of a bad idea. I wasn’t responsible for him, ‘course, but I’d taken him under my wing, little as he mighta liked it.</p><p>“The drive-in theater, on the west side o’ town. There’s a place I know where we can break in?” I raised my tone on the last syllable, trying to make it seem like he had a choice in the matter.</p><p>He thought it over, then agreed, an’ so we went and snuck in. I didn’t care much for the movie that was playin’ and he was still pretty antsy, couldn’t sit still an’ all that sorta thing. After ‘bout ten minutes he said loudly, “Gee, this sure is shit, ain’t it?”</p><p>I didn’t care much for public demonstrations, still don’t, but for some reason I played along. “Sure is.”</p><p>“Say, Timmy,” he said with a trickster’s grin, “why don’t we get outta here and hit up a nicer joint?”</p><p>That threw me off. He was fucking with me, very obviously, but I wasn’t sure how. I nodded, still followin’ his lead, but I tried to keep my guard up. He stood and walked, still actin’ as obnoxious as he knew how, to the exit, practically throwing the gate off its hinges when he opened it. </p><p>“The fuck’s all this about?” I asked soon as we were outta earshot.</p><p>“Just havin’ some fun, Tim, chill out,” he advised, but he couldn’t hold back a laugh. I shoved him, hard, and he stumbled and fell into a ditch. I shoulda known why I nearly had a damn heart attack, thinkin’ he was actually hurt ‘cause he yelped in surprise. I leaned over and offered a hand, and he gave me a strange look as he accepted it.</p><p>“You’re a real dumbass, you know that?” he asked.</p><p>“Says you,” I responded. I wonder how he was so much more perceptive than I was, how he knew things ‘bout me that I wasn’t close to figuring out. Then again, maybe he was just guessing, though he didn’t push anyone else around about it.</p><p>When I pulled him to his feet, he held onto me for a second longer than he had to. Dally wasn’t too bothered by physical contact, but he sure as hell didn’t seek it out, neither. I mighta over over-thought the whole thing, but it struck me at the time. </p><p>Like I keep sayin’, I shoulda known sooner.</p><p>3<br/>
I didn’t get it. Not when Darrel and Lizzy Curtis bit the dust in an auto accident and Dally came to me instead of anyone else. I’d liked them good enough, they’d fed me when I was younger an’ I needed it, but I never connected with them the same way Dally did. He was roped into Darry’s outfit by then, an’ he got real beat up over the whole thing. </p><p>It was August, an’ the summer heat hadn’t simmered down yet, so I was dying. Curly was off in the city an’ all of “my'' friends were with him. He’s a hell of a lot more charismatic than me, even though it all boils down to him bein’ a kiss-up. I ain’t got anybody who don’t tolerate me for him. Well, ‘cept maybe Dal, but he probably wouldn’t count himself as my friend. </p><p>“Hey, Tim,” he said, approaching loudly with some sort of wild, reckless abandon. “The fuck are you doin’?”</p><p>“Whole lotta nothin’, why?” I asked. </p><p>“Cause…” he looked real scared, of what I didn’t know. Maybe himself. “They’re dead. Mom and Dad are dead an’ there ain’t nothin’ I can do about it.”</p><p>They always told me I could call them Mom and Dad, too, when I hung around there. I never did. </p><p>“Oh shit,” I whispered. “What happened?”</p><p>He told me the whole thing, trying to act all cold about it. He was still damn near cryin’ by the end of what he knew. I wanted to tell him it was okay, make sure he knew he wasn’t alone, but I didn’t know how. </p><p>“They were my last chance,” he said in that same matter-of-fact tone.</p><p>“Last chance for what?” </p><p>“Shit, man,” he laughed bitterly, “anything. They were the only people who thought I was headed anywhere else but thirty to life. There ain’t any point to it anymore.”</p><p>“Don’t say that,” I urged, but without much heart. He was probably right- well, he was right about them bein’ the only adults who believed in him for sure. I didn’t know ‘bout where he was headed, but things were better when you had someone to fight for you. </p><p>Dally put his head on my shoulder, the intimacy sending a thrill up my spine. “If I offed myself…” Dally mused.</p><p>“Dal-”</p><p>“Don’t bother, I’m just kiddin’.” I should have known that he wasn’t. I wish I’d done something then, but I was too wrapped up in my own head to think about what he was telling me. </p><p>4<br/>
I didn’t get it. Not when Dally came into my house one day at half past two in the morning, covered in bruises and cuts. He rapped on the door so hard I thought he was gonna break it down. I thought it was Curly at first, ‘cause he an’ Angel were both out doin’ God-knows-what. I let Dally in without question, I honestly thought he might bleed out if I didn’t get him patched up soon. </p><p>“Sit there,” I ordered, pointing at one of the less beat up chairs on our kitchen table. He tossed himself into it wearily, and it was the first time he hadn’t looked like he wanted to bolt at any second. </p><p>The only first aid kit we’d had at the time was in the bathroom upstairs, so I went to retrieve it. When I came back, Dally asked, “You really know how to play nurse?”</p><p>“Yeah, well, I’d have Angel do it ‘cept she ain’t around right now,” I said. Ma never taught me to treat wounds, but I’d picked it up well enough from watchin’ my sister fix me an’ Curly. It wasn’t like any of us Shepards were goin’ to the doctor, they’d throw us in the cooler soon as look at us.</p><p>“The fuck happened to you?” I finally asked as I wrapped a bandage around his arm. </p><p>“Benny,” he replied simply, and I understood. Benny’s Dally’s dad, an’ he’s real mean. ‘Course, when mine was still around, he hit me too, but never bad as Benny hit Dal. I thought he’d kill him someday, if Dally didn’t kill him first. </p><p>I noticed something then that I’d never seen before. He had scars shining white on his shoulders that were perfectly cut into groups of five. Tally marks. I brushed my hand over one cautiously and he flinched. “That Benny, too?”</p><p>“Nah, that was all me.” I sat down next to him, expecting a story. All he said was, “They took away my chalk when I was in the cooler the first time. Had to count somehow.”</p><p>There was more to it, there had to be. “Weren’t you ten?” I asked. “Surely a kid didn’t think o’ <i>that</i>.”<br/>
He stared at the table, and neither of us spoke. Eventually he muttered, “I wasn’t exactly the only one doin’ it. Wasn’t the worst thing that happened there, anyway. ‘F you can think o’ something shitty a person can do, someone did it, an’ they probably did it to me.”</p><p>He didn’t say anything more. He’d never come close to vulnerable before, and I was still trying to process that he’d revealed anything to me. I tried to comfort him, putting a hand over the cuts and saying, “It don’t matter anymore,” but that might not have been what he wanted to hear. He shook his head.</p><p>“Guess not.” </p><p>We sat in silence for a while more, before I told him, “You can stay the night here if you want.”</p><p>He looked genuinely surprised, for some reason. “Oh, uh-”</p><p>“I can’t guarantee that my siblings won’t barge in an’ wake you up, but the couch is open if you need it.”</p><p>“Right,” he said, almost laughing. “I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“You sure?” I asked. </p><p>“Yeah, I’ll be good.” he left fast as he could. I guess he was worried that I’d blab his secrets everywhere, though I wasn’t sure why his fucked up childhood counted as secrets. I didn’t mention it again, anyway, but I always was amused when he talked about his prison days as if they were some sorta great era long gone. Maybe he thought he had to say it, but he sure as hell didn’t believe in those stories he told.</p><p>5<br/>
I didn’t get it. Not even when Dally sliced my tires open one day because I’d beat him in a fight the week before. I couldn’t exactly afford new tires, which meant I’d hafta steal them, and gettin’ caught was a much higher risk now I was a legal adult. Needless to say, I was pissed.</p><p>I headed down to the drive-in theater to see if he was there. Even if he wasn’t, it was a Friday night. Chances were some grease would know where I could look for the fucker next. I didn’t find Dally, but I did see the youngest Curtis, whose name I’d long forgotten, and Johnny Cade. “Y’all know where Dally is?” I asked.</p><p>“N- no,” Johnny said, and Curtis violently shook his head. They were bad liars. Hopefully they never played a game of poker. I didn’t press it, though, ‘cause I had an idea of where to look.</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>The only other joint Dal consistently hit up was Buck Merril’s place. He lived there, sort of, though he was turned out half the time for not payin’ rent. There was a party goin’ on, as always, but for once I didn’t stick around to watch the chaos. Dally was sitting at the bar, and from the amount of beer bottles laying around him, he wasn’t what I’d call sober.</p><p>I stormed over next to him, grabbed his wrist- not his hand, I knew better than that by then- and forced him to his feet. “You think it’s funny?” I demanded.</p><p>“What, the way you look? Yeah, I do,” he retorted with a smirk. </p><p>“Fuck you,” I hissed. “What’s your problem?”</p><p>Without givin’ me enough time to let go, he half-ran outside, dragging me along with him. No one seemed to notice it. I was still unsure, ‘bout myself an’ him an’ everything, so I didn’t want anyone thinkin’ anything that wasn’t true about me.</p><p>Or, anything I pretended wasn’t true.</p><p>“I don’t have a problem,” he told me when we were alone in an alley off to the side. “‘Cept for you botherin’ me all the time.”</p><p>That hurt like a blow to the chest, but I ignored it. <i>It’s not exactly a surprise</i>, I thought to myself. <i>Get a grip.</i></p><p>“You think I like any o’ this?” I demanded. “You’re always fuckin’ me over and I’m done with it.”</p><p>“Are you?” he asked. “Really?” </p><p>I walked over and pushed him against the brick. “Yes. You better fuck off or I’ll-”</p><p>“You’ll what? Kill me? I don’t give a shit if I die,” Dally snapped. “You can’t <i>do</i> anything to me, no one can.”</p><p>I should have told someone, I should have gotten him help, there were so many things I should have done. I just shook my head, though, and said, “No you don’t, you do care. No one really wants to die.”</p><p>“Well, I do,” he responded flatly. “You don’t, though.”</p><p>I frowned, wondering where he was going with that. “‘Course not, I don't need to be locked in a loony bin the way you apparently do.”</p><p>“You want something else.”</p><p>I suddenly got the feeling this was going in a direction I didn’t want. “The fuck do you know about me, I ain’t got an ‘agenda’ or whatever you’re tryna imply-”</p><p>“Shut up,” he said, and grabbed the sides of my face and kissed me. I kissed him back, I don’t know why, I must not have been thinking. It wasn’t right. I shouldn’t have slid my hands into his hair, I shouldn’t have smiled against his lips, I shouldn’t have liked the kiss at all. But I did, for a moment at least. Then I came to my senses… or maybe I left them.</p><p>“Fuck you,” I hissed as I stepped quickly away. “I- I’m not-” </p><p>His expression changed in an instant, not to fear or panic or anything else <i>I</i> woulda felt. He just looked confused. “You’ve got some shit to work out,” he told me. Then he walked away, back into Buck’s. I was too… too everything, really, to follow him and ask what he meant. </p><p>That was the last time I saw him alive.</p><p>+1<br/>
I only got it when he died. I think everyone in the country must know the story by now, ‘bout how three kids from the east side of Tulsa saved some kids in a fire. They talk all ‘bout Pony (who names their kid “Pony”? I liked it better when I didn’t know his name) and Johnny, but they only ever mention Dally in passing. It makes sense, I mean, he did immediately go get himself killed. But that doesn’t change the fact that Dally deserved more.</p><p>Darry was in charge of the funerals. He had the good grace to invite me even though we ain’t exactly on speakin’ terms. It was a shitty excuse for a funeral, the sun shone too bright and the day was too warm. No one grieved Dallas Winston, not even the weather. </p><p>Even if every guest had pitched in, we wouldn’t have had enough cash for more than the graves they were given. Small white granite crosses with their names written on. Dally would find it fitting, if he could see it. </p><p>I realized then that I was probably the only one who really cared he was gone. The people at the funeral were all there for Johnny. I couldn’t blame them. He was a hell of a lot more personable than Dal ever tried to be. But still, there was something about Dallas Winston that no one else seemed to see, something that I…</p><p>
  <i>Something I was attracted to.</i>
</p><p>Oh. </p><p>No. That couldn’t be right. He was insane, that night at Buck’s. That was <i>wrong</i>, anyway, I was raised Catholic, I knew the rules. I knew what was good and what was bad and me being in love with Dally was definitely bad. </p><p>And yet… I couldn’t shove the thought away or push it down the way I normally did. It wasn’t close to the first time I’d thought something like this about myself, this was just so much more persistent than before. Maybe, I reasoned desperately, it was different ‘cause he died. That made sense. Whatever this was, it was just grief, not… <i>feelings</i>. </p><p>It was hard to ignore the thoughts pounding on my skull and telling me that I was wrong there. It was harder to ignore the little voice in the corner of my mind saying that maybe it didn’t matter that he was a man, it was Dally and that was different. I had to ignore all of that.</p><p>I went home and ate and I was almost asleep before I cracked. I’d been unwillingly remembering him the whole time, recalling every time we’d ever interacted. I didn’t like it, because more an’ more I was seeing how much I liked him. We weren’t friends, ‘cause we hung out for safety in numbers more than anything else, or at least that’s how I’d guess Dally saw it. It was more and more clear by the second that I’d had a deeper connection than he, and it was tiring to try and pretend I didn’t see it.</p><p>In the dark quiet of my room, just loud enough for me to hear, I whispered, “I was- no, I… am- in love with Dally.” </p><p>It sounded right- not morally, but factually. Maybe it was okay. Maybe it wasn’t. I don’t get to decide that. All I get to do is try to move on, and hope that someday I’ll forget about this.</p>
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